


Melt

by useinu



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: I have no idea how to tag, M/M, first fic in years pls be gentle, vigilante!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 18:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17585990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useinu/pseuds/useinu
Summary: With danger and criminals crawling around in the dark even with the police around, Manhattan had bound to have people attempting to take matters into their own hands.vigilante!au solangelo. i guess.





	Melt

**Author's Note:**

> i didn’t have time to research how first-aid or police conversations work im sorry  
> i didn't even remember to give this a title until i posted it  
> half a solangelo vigilante!au ig  
> pls send help  
> if you spot any mistakes (i noticed a whole unwritten line after posting erhidjkl) please point them out,,, thank you very much.  
>   
> im so sorry ..

With danger and criminals crawling around in the dark even with the police around, Manhattan had bound to have people attempting to take matters into their own hands. Some might call them “superheroes”, but seeing how all of them were, basically, pretty violent, Will’s pretty sure the word “vigilante” would fit better. (A part of his brain reminds himself of all the superhero comic books he's read, where the good guys always save the day by bashing the bad guy’s head in, but his point still kind of stands true.)

 

Superheroes worked to defend justice. In some cases, justice would be the law. Sometimes, it would be written or unspoken community rules. They always had something to protect, to devote themselves to; something worth putting their lives on the line for. Vigilantes upheld their own codes of justice and peace through actions and words, and they supported and protected families or communities when the law wasn't able to.

 

William Solace, lawful citizen, medical degree holder, 36-hour-shift doctor from the local hospital, had utmost respect for the city’s law enforcers. The police force was dutiful and was revered by the city as well — quite a number of his friends worked there too — but vigilantes had his regards as well, even if he didn’t exactly approve of their ways (violence was still a big no-no in his book). The most he’d probably tell them would be “stop breaking your (and other people’s) bones”.

 

The first time he actually meets a vigilante in the flesh is when a series of robberies finally evolve into a case of assault. As soon as the ambulance arrives, he and his team roll out from the back, carrying a stretcher and equipment with them as they rush to aid the wounded. Will shouts orders to keep the situation under control, until the police actually arrive at the scene long after the perpetrator is gone. One of them repeatedly shouts into his intercom over more incoming sirens, “one-point-seven meters tall, wearing a green hoodie and black pants. I repeat, we need a man…” and if it weren’t so distracting, Will might not have actually told the guy to shut up.

 

He’s too focused on the healing to have noticed the officer, now whispering, spewing insults into his intercom, mumbling about how their suspect had  _just vanished into thin air for some reason,_ and how everyone was too tired to deal with this shit. 

 

As his fingertips leave the last body and everyone is safe from any fatal injuries, the sudden appearance of a figure slipping out from the shadows startles him to the point he jumps. The man is dragging an unconscious body along with him too, he realizes, when he treads towards the police cars in silence.

 

“Here's your suspect,” the vigilante says, his voice scratchy under the effects of a probable voice changer in his mask. Under the flickering street lamps, Will can finally take a good look at him. Black tights, black shirt, black boots, black coat. He's pretty sure grey works better when blending into the shadows, but strangely, black seems to work for the man better.

 

The vigilante pats his coat down as he lets go of the body, as if there was dust piling on it. _How dramatic,_ his consciousness comments dryly. _Like a superhero when he enters the scene._

 

He's startled again as the vigilante turns around to glare at him, as if he had just read his thoughts. He braces himself for any impact, but the latter only “ _tsk_ ”s at him and strides back into the shadows, his form melting into the dark and disappearing entirely.

 

* * *

  
Will knows his vigilantes. He knows that the man he met was the self dubbed “Ghost King” (because he definitely _didn't_ conduct a Google search on vigilante activity around town).

 

Meeting the Ghost King again wasn't exactly surprising to him. Their second encounter is when he gets called to another assault scene, this time a mobbing in the less safe back-alleys in town. The police have, yet again, not arrived at the scene yet, and vigilante activity in the area was relatively high. They regulated order through violence, but managed to keep everyone in check anyways. Some might've said that no matter what they did, they were still criminals, but Will (mind you, he was a law-abiding citizen) still looked up to them for doing what was “correct”, or at least what was correct to them.

 

But then, he's pretty sure walking around with a sword in broad daylight, or in this case, _shadows_ , isn't exactly the correct thing to do.

 

“Hey, it’s sunshine boy again,” the Ghost King comments, after the injured are all escorted out and the police actually arrive. His legs are slack against each other as he leans back onto the wall, and his arms are crossed loosely around his chest. Will has the urge to straight-out ignore him, but he finds himself answering anyways.

 

“Are you not concerned that the police will link you to both cases?”

 

 _Idiot,_ he scolds himself. _Why are you asking him a question?_

 

“No.” His fingers have started tapping against his arms. “Unlike what you might think, I'm on the police’s side. I don't hurt people on purpose.”

 

Will raises an eyebrow. “Then why don't you work in the force?”

 

The tapping stops abruptly, as the Ghost King turns to face him instead.

 

“Some things need to be resolved through violence. The police can't deal with everything.”

 

“Neither is violence the answer to everything.”

 

The Ghost King laughs, the sound uncanny under the effects of his voice changer. “Interesting. I guess I'll see you around, then, _Sunshine._ ”

 

Will doesn't have the time (nor the patience) to reciprocate his goodbye as the Ghost King melts into the shadows again.

 

_Drama queen._

 

* * *

  
Their promised third encounter starts off with less teasing and sass contained, and completely devoid of sharp tongues and words. It's when the police have just started to clean up the scene, and Will is waiting for orders to return when the Ghost King all but collapses in front of him before he even greets him. His silhouette seems wispy, smoky even, under the lamp lights, body fading in and out of existence as Will attempts to get his grip on him.

 

His hand moves for the mask first to allow him to breath better, but a weak grip on his hand makes him lower it instead.

 

“Anything but the mask,” the Ghost King wheezes out, his breaths labored, short and shallow inhales barely moving his chest. “Please. I’ll be fine.”

 

With the man in probable fatal condition in front of him, Will is pretty sure he should have done just the opposite thing, exposing the identity of the man at the same time because _goddamn the media is already here_ , but something in him makes him decide against it and he nods. A decision that would haunt him for the rest of his life if the man were to disappear into nothing for real.

 

_Good job, Will Solace. Another gold star for you._

 

He sings a hymn anyways, with his hands pressed against the man’s chest. The vigilante’s hand is still resting on top of his wrist, grip now slack and harmless. He listens as his breathing evens out and his fingertips solidify again, and observes his body solidify into living material once again.

 

They’re both huddled at the edge of the site, white flashes from cameras flooding the frontlines as photographers fight for vantage points to obtain the best shots possible. No one has caught sight of them yet, neither have any of the press focused their lens on anywhere near them, so Will takes the chance to help the Ghost King up and walk him into the nearest alley, once he determines the latter is _solid_ enough to move safely. He can see the sparkle of a smile in his eyes through the holes above his cheekbones, and can’t help but smile back.

 

“I’m trusting you to get out of here alone,” he mumbled under his breath, as the shadows seems to swirl and gather around the man’s feet.

 

Eerie cracking noises come from the Ghost King’s voice changer, which Will guesses are the effects of a snicker.

 

“Putting your trust in _criminals_? I thought you knew better, Sunshine.”

 

But Will doesn’t really care at this point. He pulls out a slip of paper from his pocket and uncaps the pen clipped against his collar, scribbling down his name and that of the hospital he works at on it. He leaves a gap in the middle and writes his number down as well.

 

“Hold onto this, just for yourself,” he says as he smacks the paper onto the other’s chest. “I’m pretty sure you need a medical checkup or two.”

 

“I don’t need two checkups at the same time, Solace,” he says back, the laced sarcasm barely recognizable in his altered voice. “But I’ll come by someday, I guess. If all your services are for free. Vigilantes don't earn a lot, you know.”

 

“In those clothes? You’ll scare my patients.”

 

“That’s if you have any to begin with,” he taunts. “Maybe I’ll do just that.”

 

“Don’t push it,” he scowls and his nostrils flare, but the Ghost King has all but vanished into the shadows with a final, echoing laugh.

 

* * *

 

Of all things Will could’ve imagined happening the next morning, never would he have managed to think of _this_.

 

Sitting cross-legged on top of his office desk is a young man around his age, shaggy, dark hair framing his face and curling around his neck. His clothes are all black, save for the white and grey skull designs on his shirt and the light coloured fur lining the hood of his coat. The eyes that land of him when he enters are a dark brown, and he twists a skull design ring on his left hand when Will nearly drops his coffee.

 

 _It's too early in the morning for this,_ he groans. _I can't believe he really came._

 

The Ghost King smiles, a little bit shy as he bites his lip (but Will can never be sure with this man), and offers the tiniest of waves. He kick-leaps off his desk and treads lightly towards him.

 

“Hey, _Sunshine_.” The nickname rolls off his tongue with the slightest hint of a tease. Without the voice changer and creepy black mask, Will thinks that he can actually get used to this. “I’ve waited for you long enough. Are you slacking off on a work day?”

 

Will wants to gut the guy or perhaps even shoot an arrow through his head, but he’s a _doctor for the gods’ sake,_ so he once again decides against killing the guy.

 

“I thought you’d know better,” he scoffs, “I was on duty yesterday when you decided to faint, and that was _two in the morning_ . Won’t you, now, sit down for a chat? I’d _love_ to hear about your troubles, and correct those morals of yours.”

 

The Ghost King’s smile widens the tiniest bit, and the corners of his own mouth mirrors his actions. “Nico di Angelo,” he says, and extends a warm (cold, actually) hand in his direction. “Everyone’s favourite local vigilante.” He takes it and shakes it firmly.

 

“Will Solace, law-abiding citizen and doctor.”

 

Convincing the vigilante to give it up on the violence seems like the least-important task he has now, as Nico di Angelo’s smile warms and the corner of his eyes crinkle with the motion. Will is pretty sure his insides are going to melt if this continues anymore.

 

 _Yeah,_ his eyes shut close in contentment, _he could really get used to this._

**Author's Note:**

> i can’t write dialogue and i high-key don’t like this  
> first fic in a (very long) while pls be gentle  
> my first draft had sth like this “So the vigilante comes and holy shit did he just melt into the shadows? And he keeps bringing the rest of the injured out and what the fuck he just knocked the guy out. What the fuck.” so you can tell how qwality my work is  
> thanks a buncho for reading even though i don't like this shit at all ily


End file.
